


Take My Hand; Wreck My Plans

by Tricki



Category: Criminal: UK (TV 2019)
Genre: Episode: s02e01, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricki/pseuds/Tricki
Summary: For the past two and a half years, getting called into work has offered Tony either one or both of his key needs: keeping him out of his rattling empty flat, or seeing Natalie Hobbs.
Relationships: Natalie Hobbs/Tony Myerscough
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	Take My Hand; Wreck My Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Natalie/Tony fic! This is a bit AU now as I wrote it before watching 2x04, but I hope you all enjoy. I've got a couple more coming - one genuinely quite ridiculous. I would die for these two and hope you have fun with my stories about them. 
> 
> The title is from Willow by Taylor Swift. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my BBFF Becs for letting me scream at her about them a lot (no, really, A LOT), even though she hasn't watched yet. x

Tony Myerscough doesn’t remember ever resenting the sound of his work phone waking him, not even at the weekend. For the past two and a half years, getting called into work has offered Tony either one or both of his key needs: keeping him out of his rattling empty flat, or seeing Natalie Hobbs. 

Now, Tony is well aware that falling in love with his boss is a stupid and career limiting move, but he can’t help it. Years of being two feet from her in the observation room have convinced Tony that there is no other person he can imagine wanting to spend every moment of his life with. There is only Natalie Hobbs. 

He listens to the phone buzzing, willing it to stop, willing it not to disturb –

“’S’that your work phone?” A voice beside him says groggily. _Damn it_.

Tony shifts under Natalie’s arm, leaving his draped over her hip, and reaches for his work phone on the bedside table. 

“Myerscough.” Tony croaks with unused vocal cords. 

“It’s Jamie. Are you asleep?”

“It’s Sunday, Jamie. 

“It’s 4pm…”

“I wasn’t asleep, I’m about to play football.” He doesn’t look at Natalie, even though he wants to. Reflexively, he runs his hand over her hip. Natalie ducks her head behind her shoulder to hide her smirk. 

Tony can hear Jamie frowning over the phone. “You play football?”

“Yes, I play five-a-side.” Natalie enjoys watching him flush, thinks about moving closer to him and kissing the spot between his peck and his collar bone, just to torture him a little. 

“Well I hope you have a reserve. We need you in here.”

“We don’t have a reserve. I’ll be letting down the team.” Natalie has the temerity to snigger here. 

“I get it, it’s Sunday. I get it. But we’re your team, too, you know?”

“Can you run me through it on the phone?”

“Yeah I could explain it down the phone, Tony, but I think it might be one of those where you’re better off coming in.”

He pulls the phone away from his head to let out a groan. “I’m across town. I’ll be an hour.” 

Tony rings off with ill-contained irritation, sets the phone back on the bedside table, and turns to Natalie. Just the sight of her, sleek brown hair mussed with sex and sleep, eyes sparkling with mischief, is enough to melt every tense muscle in Tony’s body. 

“You realise you’ll have to go in in football kit, now?” Natalie says with a smirk. 

“It was worth a try.” Tony gives her a soft smile. He’s been giving it to her for years. She doesn’t know how it took her so long to notice. She doesn’t know how it took her so long to realise how lovely his eyes are, either. It’s the office. The obs room is dark. The rest of the place is all fluorescent lights. Feature-dulling. His flat is bright and clean and gives her ample opportunity to take in the hazel flecks that make his eyes look like the ocean during a storm. Natalie is no good at expressing her emotions. Even the thought of it makes her face cloud. She thinks about telling him she’s happy – the past two months with him have made her happier than she can remember being. The words dry out her tongue. Her eyes dance over his face, brown hair flopping over a forehead so often creased with worry, left eye, right eye, the slope of his nose, the mouth that is almost always bent with fondness for her. Natalie can’t do justice to the situation with words, and she’s a woman who prides herself on her communication skills.

Stumped, frowning in a way that makes Tony nervous, she bends forward and kisses him. 

“You okay?” Tony’s frowning, too, now, his hand on her waist, subconsciously holding her to him. 

“Fine.” She kisses him again, for the novelty of being able to, then pushes lightly on his chest. “We should get ready.”

Tony begins to sit up before realising what she’s said. “‘We’? You don’t – ”

“Well I can’t very well spend the afternoon in your bed without you, can I?”

Tony is about to say something suggestive when he breaks into a grin, drops his head and laughs. 

“What?” Natalie’s tone is defensive, which only fuels Tony’s amusement. “What!”

Tony picks up her hand and brings it to his lips. Natalie’s breath catches at the intimacy of his lips on her knuckles, his fingers massaging hers. 

“Sorry.” He meets her eyes again. “If someone had told me at Christmastime that soon I’d be joking about you spending the day naked in my bed waiting for me I would’ve had them sectioned.” 

Natalie props herself up on her elbow, her smile almost predatory, the kind she’d use when interrogating a suspect. “Are you saying I should be sectioned for having sex with you, Tony?”

“Well…” He teases, surprising her by making her grin when she was in serious mode. “No, I just didn’t expect you and I would really ever…” Tony reaches for his glasses and slides them on to avoid her gaze. “Thank god for Vanessa.”

“Vanessa?”

“Bullied me into asking you for that drink.” 

Natalie reaches up and begins trailing her fingernails over Tony’s shoulders. He shivers with pleasure, and Natalie’s stomach clenches. “I wonder if that warrants a promotion?”

“I mean, I should think so.” 

Threading her hands through his baby soft hair, Natalie pulls him back to her mouth, emitting a little whimper of pleasure when his tongue teases hers. Her need to touch him still catches her by surprise. 

“Why has Jamie called you in?” She asks, realising she’s rolled Tony on top of her and she’s at very real risk of ordering him, as his superior officer, to stay in bed with her all day. Tony groans, shifting against her. Why is she making him talk at a moment like this? He has to pull away before he’s too distracted to function. 

“He didn’t say.”

Natalie’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh, I’m pleased to see you’re prioritising me.” She teases. Tony bends to kiss her again. 

“Sounds like you’re advocating for a dereliction of duties, Guv.”

Natalie’s face pulls into a half smile, and Tony knows he’s won. He capitalises on his moment of willpower to slip out of her arms and out of bed. 

Natalie watches him, fondly. She remembers watching Paul and feeling hunger, but not affection. The combination of both in this moment gives her a pang of anxiety. This is what propels her out of the bed in search of her underwear and trousers.

“I meant what I said, you can stay here.” 

She tosses him a smile over her shoulder. “I should change my clothes.” Tony quirks his eyebrows, a silent _Do you need any?_ and Natalie grins, shaking her head. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and blanches. 

Gesturing to the tangle her normally sleek brown hair has worked itself into, she says “Yeah, I’m going to need to sort this out.” 

“I don’t mind it.” She looks for flirtation or teasing on his face, and finds neither. He is being earnest, running his eyes over her, taking her in quietly. The depth of feeling she finds in him terrifies her. She breaks the moment by fussing about getting dressed, trying to shake her fear of letting someone in, trying to quell the impulse to flee that rises in her. 

Tony leaves the bedroom while Natalie’s still filling time. She listens to the sound of him filling his knapsack, a smile twitching at her lips. Why she finds the familiarity of this moment comforting, after so little time, is not something Natalie, with her double-degree in Psychology and Criminology, chooses to examine. 

In the bathroom she cleans her teeth quickly with Tony’s spare toothbrush (not hers yet, it’s too much for her to think about), does what she can with her hair, and emerges. 

Tony is checking his phone, glasses perched on his nose, knapsack neatly packed. He is making no attempt to rush her, but she senses his desire to get to work now that the hard part – dragging himself out of the cosy bed he shared with her – is over. 

He flashes a smile at her. “Ready?”

Natalie nods, the thought that Tony is in no way the man she expected to find herself in such a position with flashing into her mind even as a smile forces its way onto her mouth at the sight of him. 

To cover her feelings, she says “You know this flat makes no sense?” 

She’s right - it’s shaped a bit like a banana. The courtyard leading off the bedroom is a nice perk, though. Tony plucks his keys out of the bowl above the fireplace, brushing Natalie’s lower back as he leans across the awkward, narrow space. Natalie feels her neck warm at the intimacy of the moment. 

“I do, but it was a wonder I could even afford this as a twenty-eight-year-old DS.” Natalie tips her head, shrugs her eyebrows. “Have I impressed you, DCI Hobbs?”

“Maybe a little.” Natalie smiles, brushing her thumb over his lips before slipping out the door. 

Natalie shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat. The day is sunny, but the wind is chill. Tony wonders if there’ll ever come a time when he and Natalie will make the ten-minute walk to the Overground hand in hand. He’d like to, very much.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed the commute this long.” 

“We can’t all live in Clerkenwell – besides, Hackney isn’t exactly Slough. _That’s_ a commute.”

“All I’m saying is, there’s a reason we only stay at your place at weekends.”

“Here I thought it was because I hate cooking in your kitchen.”

“My kitchen’s bigger than yours!” Natalie protests, even though she doesn’t often use it.

“Yes, but you can reach yours from the sofa. At least you have to stand up to get to mine.” 

Natalie shakes her head in mock-outrage. “I’ve prepared you world-class toast in that kitchen.”

“And I made you my famous beef ragu in mine.” 

“Famous?”

“In Lancashire.” Natalie laughs and thinks about taking his hand, his elbow. They’re close to the station, though. Not enough time to process it. 

They walk under the bridge, round the coffee window they frequent, and there it is, the bright orange Overground sign signalling it’s time for them to part, Tony on a train and Natalie on a bus. Glancing over her shoulder, Tony sees one approaching. He nods. “Do you want to…?” 

Natalie follows his gaze. “No, I need some more gum. I’ll pop to the chemist.” 

“I would have – ”

“- I know. Go to work. And, yes, Detective, that is an order.” Tony smiles at her so warmly she thinks her coat is overkill. He settles his hands on her waist and kisses her – the kind of deep goodbye kiss reserved for new relationships. 

“Enjoy your afternoon, love.” The epithet is out of his mouth before he can catch it. He was planning to call her ‘Guv’, tease her, but it’s gone all wrong. A flicker of doubt passes over his face, but Natalie smiles at him, brushes her hand through his hair, once again marvelling at how soft it is. 

“Why don’t I meet you somewhere for dinner? Maybe a movie?” 

Tony is shocked by her suggesting such a thing on a work night, but nods and smiles. “What were you thinking?” Tony still has his hands on her, drinking in the moment. 

“Mulberry Bush then something at the Curzon?” 

“Yeah.” He’s grinning too hard to elaborate, too pleased by the fact that she wants to spend time with him as much as he does her. Natalie can see this on his face as easily as if he’d said it aloud. 

“Text me when you’re wrapping up and I’ll head down.” 

“Terrific.” 

Natalie grins at him. She could count on one hand the number of times she grinned before they went out for that drink those few weeks ago. 

She kisses him again, little more than a peck this time, before slipping out of his grasp. “Don’t miss your train.” She’s right, he can hear it rumbling in the middle-distance. Tony squeezes her hand fleetingly before jogging into the station, leaving Natalie with a smile on her face and a serious need for nicotine gum and a snack – they’ve barely eaten anything all day. 

Natalie is just getting out of her undersized bathtub when her mobile rings. She smiles at Tony’s name flashing on her screen. If she’s honest, that’s been her first instinct for almost a year now – well before he asked her for that drink. 

“This is unexpectedly early.” She smiles into the phone. It’s only 5pm. 

“Yeah, about that…”

“What could possibly be going on down there that needs Jamie _and_ the both of us at work on a Sunday?”

“Vanessa’s accidentally got herself a confession.”

Natalie’s face clouds with confusion. “But she’s not interviewing a suspect?”

“No, she’s interviewing Bryce’s wife. And it’s sounding like she may actually be the killer.”

“Are you going in?”

“No, Ness has it. She’s great…”

“- But?”

“She hasn’t picked up on it.”

Natalie sighs until her lungs are empty. “Sounds like the movie needs a rain-check then.”

“Sorry.” Tony mumbles.

Natalie smirks. “We’ll call it an alternative to quality time.” 

Natalie can’t be arsed getting suited up on a Sunday evening, so she pulls on trainers, track pants, and an old hoodie. Only Tony has seen her in such a state, cuddled on the couch watching shitty detective movies and picking apart their procedures, trying to crack the case before the characters do. She remembers the first time she wore track pants in front of Tony, thinking it would break the spell of her perfectly tailored suits of armour, but he had pulled her between his legs and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck, nuzzling under her hair. Natalie had never felt so seen and accepted all at once. 

As she steps out of the lift at the office and is greeted by Tony, she keeps herself focussed on the facts of the case he’s run her through on the phone to avoid smiling at him. She concentrates on chewing her nicotine gum to distract herself from the urge that bubbles in her to touch him. She’s never done it in the office, and she doesn’t intend to start now. Besides, Jamie is there, Jamie is watching. It might be Sunday, but they have a job to do. A killer they’ve caught with luck rather than management. 

In the end, it’s quicker and more painless than Natalie had anticipated. She’s in and out and made an arrest in less than an hour. Her track pants were a good decision after all. Getting a private moment in the obs room is impossible with Jamie, Kyle, and Vanessa all there, so Natalie announces her exit in her best DCI voice before pulling out her phone and texting _Meet you behind MI6._

Surreptitiously, Tony fires back, _Be there in 12._

When Tony spots Natalie out the back of the SIS building, he can tell she’s dying for a cigarette, even after being off them for five months. He chances a kiss, a firm peck and his hand squeezing her waist. 

“Twelve minutes exactly. How did you guess that?”

“Vanessa needed some wise counsel.”

“That’s a rare turn of events.”

“I said as much to her.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be. Bricking it a bit.” Natalie shifts, moving away from the SIS building. Tony doesn’t know where she’s heading, but he follows, continuing “Not enough to stop her asking if you’d agreed to get a drink with me.”

Natalie smirks, and without thinking she slips her hand into Tony’s. He glances at their hands, surprised, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he mutely passes her the open Galaxy bar he bought from the vending machine at work on his way out. With her free hand she breaks off a piece, pops it in her mouth and chews. 

“What did you tell her?”

“What she needed to hear. Do her job and get over herself.” 

“I’m sure she saw right through your macho act.” Tony laughs, shrugs. Ness knows him too well. “I meant about us.”

“Oh, there’s an 'us' is there?” Tony teases. Natalie elbows him in the ribs with a smirk. Tony may never have felt happier.

“Do I need to remind you I’m an expert interrogator?” 

“I used classic evasive tactics that would’ve impressed even you, DCI Hobbs.” 

Natalie smirks, drawing closer to him before falling into a contemplative silence. “She will work it out.” 

“Well, someone will.”

“No, my money’s on Vanessa. Jamie’s too wrapped up in his own conquests.”

“Kyle might.”

“Kyle’s too scared to make eye contact with me half the time. I doubt he’ll catch us making eyes at each other about spree versus serial killers.”

Tony laughs. She’s right. She generally is. 

“That was unfair of you, by the way.”

“Just because I paid more attention in criminology than you did – ”

“- You know that’s not what I mean!”

Natalie reaches for the chocolate bar that’s melting in Tony’s hand and bites off a piece before passing it back to him. Even though they’ve been sleeping together, the intimacy of her mouth being on his bar of chocolate gives him a momentary thrill. 

“I honestly don’t.”

Natalie shakes her head, still smirking. “You know what it does to me when you get all pedantic.” 

“If I knew that, I would have coerced you into playing Trivial Pursuit with me.”

“Can you play Trivial Pursuit with two people?

“Well, any more and it gets a bit awkward to use strip rules. Unless we need to have a discussion about exclusivity.”

Natalie tries to gather herself, deal with the dramatic bounce between strip trivia and whether they’re serious. Her voice softens. “You don’t have to worry about that, Tony. I’m all yours.” 

Tony glances at her so sharply it makes Natalie meet his gaze. They share a smile, and then, unwilling to cede all the power, Natalie adds. “For now at least.”

Tony shakes his head, fighting a laugh. “Duly noted. Guv.” 

After another three minutes in silence, Tony turns to her, squeezing her hand. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Well, a film the night before interviewing a suspected multiple murderer seems inadvisable, but we can still have a drink.” 

“We can. Or I could cook you dinner.” 

“And then what? You’ll slip out in the dead of night to change your clothes before work?” 

Tony hesitates, adjusts his knapsack over his shoulder; “…I packed a suit.”

Natalie grins, half mocking, half delighted. “Did you?”

“Well, we only stay at my place at the weekend.” He hesitates again, still caught up in the idea that all this will end, crumble into shell grit. How is it possible after this much pining she’s here, holding his hand? “If you mind, though – ”

“- Tony.” Natalie cuts him off, pulling him to a halt and turning to face him. They’re far enough away from the office now that Natalie doesn’t worry they might be observed. She rests her hand on his chest, finding to soft fabric of his tee shirt under the rain jacket he wears for football. She kisses him like they’re completely alone, not blocking the footpath. 

“Come home with me.” 

Tony gives her a tender grin. “Any time you like, love.” 


End file.
